


Mahabhaagini

by AmbidextrousArcher



Category: Mahabharata - Vyasa
Genre: F/M, beginning of a relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:40:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25769836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmbidextrousArcher/pseuds/AmbidextrousArcher
Summary: Mahabhaagini (Sanskrit-Female): A partner.Draupadi's Swayamvara and the beginning of her life with the Pandavas, through her own eyes.
Relationships: Arjuna/Draupadi (Mahabharata), Draupadi/The Pandavas
Comments: 10
Kudos: 21
Collections: Hindu Mythology Event





	Mahabhaagini

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dwij008](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dwij008/gifts).



> This is seriously the hardest fic I have ever written, with Panchali's PoV being so hard to nail down! I hope I succeeded at least a little and that it's believable.

My introduction to this new world is rather…strange, to say the least. The confusing maze of palace etiquettes is a very different experience from the simple, direct world I vaguely remember before my birth here. Drishtadyumn, my twin, is the only person who understands what I feel. My older brother, Bhraata Shikandin, is also very nice. He teaches me and Drishtadyumn what being a Princess and a Prince means.

I feel like it is rather unfair that a Princess is expected to marry, and a Prince to fight and manage the Kingdom. I and Dri are hardly different, except for the fact that he is a man and I a woman.

I directly ask Pitashree why it is so different for men and women. Pitashree is very indulgent of me, all the ladies say rather disapprovingly. He looks pensive for a moment, then says “This is the way of the world, daughter. Question it if you must, but you have to follow it. All I can do as your father is give you an education worthy of taking any responsibility you might need to.” I enjoy learning, and Pitashree is very proud of that. I learn many things from the Vedas and the Shastras. Bhraata Shikandin, in Pitashree’s hearing, once asked if I was learning all this to be a Rajkumar’s Ardhangini in truth.

That’s when I hear that name for the first time. Rajkumar Arjun. “She is to marry the Kuru Rajkumar Arjun” Pitashree says, as if it has already been decided. Has it? Bhraata Shikandin looks at me. “I’ll explain later,” he mouths. I nod back at him, trying to look interested as I ask “Rajkumar Arjun, Pitashree?” It isn’t hard, after all I am not faking my interest.

As new as I was to this world, even I had heard of the Kuru Rajkumars. For some reason that was hushed whenever I entered, Rajkumar Arjun is talked about with a lot of respect here in Panchal. As soon as Pitashree leaves favoring me with a nod, I turn attentively to Bhraata Shikandin. “What do you know of the Kuru Rajkumars?” “Not much of the other four, but Rajkumar Arjun defeated Pitashree in combat and handed him to Acharya Drona. I have told you of their feud before.” I nod. Men had feuds over very silly things sometimes. It is incomprehensible to me. Why would anyone fight over words? Surely there are more important things to fight about? There is no point beating the dead past again and again, however. Hence, I just file away that tidbit about my possible future husband, then forget him for a while, throwing myself into my learning.

Arthashastra is my field of choice. There is something so charmingly complex about the intricacies of economics, the one field where war is not necessary to make a difference.

I also make hesitant forays into the art of war. Most of the time, my clumsy attempts are laughed off by Dri and Bhraata Shikandin. Pride inflamed, I sit in a sulk sometimes, just to see their faces as they apologize to me. Bhraata Shikandin usually plays along, generally resulting in a very nice, comfortable sibling hug where I feel safer than I have anywhere else in this world.

I am not prepared for it at all when the day dawns. My Swayamvar. I hardly know why this is a ‘self-choice ceremony’ when I am not the person who chooses my husband, when I have to bow down to a warrior’s archery. I don’t like it, but who asked the opinion of the girl about to get married? Or listened to it, even? Any time I try to talk about my concerns, they are brushed off because of ‘parampara’ and ‘dharma’. Pitashree’s quiet reminder that the ways of the world must be followed quietens my questions, but they keep roiling in my mind. It is only made worse by the attentive titters of the maids, gushing on and on about my appearance as if that is the only thing of value I have. After I give one of them a piece of my mind, they all quieten, thankfully leaving me alone. I do not know what I should be thinking. Pitashree has often told me that not every Kingdom of Aryavrat is like Panchal, that others are much more rigid about the status quo, and I will have to be careful about that. Pitashree has very high hopes on Rajkumar Arjun. I, however, am not so sure. All accounts of the Pandavas report their unfortunately untimely death.

Once I ascend the dais in full view of everyone, I work hard to look impassive. Dri had let out a long, low whistle when he had seen the contraption of the test for the first time. I suppose it is a difficult one, then. Father has taken care that none but the best warrior could walk away with his daughter. Against my own will, there is some pride in that. I watch on as Prince after Prince tries their luck at the bow, but most are unable to even string it. Then comes a man who Dri straightens in anticipation for, just a little. King Vasusen of Anga. I eye him warily. _Is this man meant to be my husband?_ Before I have any cause to wonder further, he loses control of the bow, the string twanging and hitting him in the face, tossing him across the floor. I look at Dri. “If not Rajkumar Arjun, then he had the best chance of winning you, or so he himself would say.” Dri whispers to me. I nod. 

“Sometimes, Dri,” I whisper back, “People have vastly inflated opinions of themselves,” Dri grins, stifling laughter.

One by one, Kings and Princes try their luck to no avail. Pitashree looks defeated for a moment. I wonder if I can do something, but I cannot. The law surrounding the Swayamvar is such. Either a man wins and marries me or…the consequences are terrible to think of. That’s when a young man stands from the throng of Brahmanas. He strides through the milling throng, his head inclined towards Pitashree, clearly asking for permission. Pitashree nods.

The man turns, smile on his face, his eyes on mine. He regards the target calmly, clearly calculating something. He kneels in front of the bow, taking it with a practiced hand, stringing it with ease. He raises his head once, tilted to one side. Then, so quickly that I can barely make sense of it, he nocks arrows to the bow and shoots, his movements smooth and fluid, five of them in quick succession. Each of the arrows strike true, leaving a trail of arrows sticking out of the eye of the fish. His head is still down, staring intently into the water. As the thud of the arrows finding their mark echoes, he raises his head, a flash of triumph in his eyes.

I move forward. As I near him, he drops his gaze, suddenly bashful, shy. His shyness gives me the confidence to lift the garland, placing it around his neck. I am unsure what to do next, and it is obvious that so is he.

But all thoughts of what to do next flee as the defeated Kings draw their weapons, clearly aiming at striking us down. Another hulking young man emerges out of the Brahmanas. He clearly recognizes my victor. I cannot bring myself to call him my husband as yet. I do not know anything of him, for one. He nods at the other man. They fight together with a pattern that speaks of familiarity.

Vasusen and a lot of the other Kings, however, choose to attack my victor. He defeats them with ease, though his fight with Vasusen is more protracted. “No man can defeat me except Indra himself or Kriti, the son of Indra. Who are you?” asks Vasusen. He says nothing, yet I note a slight shaking in him, as if he’s trying to control something. At length, when Vasusen seems to be retreating, he says “I am neither Indra, nor the science of arms personified, merely a man who has learnt all weapons, by the grace of my Guru. Stand and fight, Vasusen!” Vasusen merely mumbles something about Brahman Shakti as he beats a hasty retreat.

Once we broke through the fight, parting from father with the requisite dignity, I had to laugh. 'Seriously? Kriti the son of Indra?' My victor's companion interjects. My victor turns to him with a grin. 'Of all the people to ask that, he chose you, Arjun? You?' They laugh together. I am left staring at the both of them. _Arjun? As in Kuru Rajkumar Arjun?_ Still laughing, he says “Well, I did not deny being who I am, Bhraata Bheem.” He turns to me then. “It’s true, Princess.” His voice carries more confidence here. “My name is Arjun. This is Bhraata Bheem.” “Where are we going?” I ask. Now that I know the identity of the man who is to be my husband, the next question is obvious. _Where do they want to go? What will they do next?_ Arjun stops laughing, a frown on his face. “For now, we go to the hut,” he says quietly. “In time, we will return to Hastina.” He turns to his brother. “Bhraata Bheem, what does this mean for us?” Both of them look confused for a moment. _Well, you should have thought of this beforehand!_ Arjun smiles at me. “Whatever it is, we shall see,” he says.

We stop in front of a crude shelter. My eyes, used to the grandeur of Panchal, can hardly take it in. _Well,_ I say to myself, _this is only for the nonce._ Two men are waiting outside. “Bhraata Arjun!” one of them calls. “Bhraata Bheem!” Arjun bows his head, looking at me almost furtively. Bheem follows suit. “Excuse us for some time,” Arjun murmurs, sounding uneasy.

They quickly move out of earshot, leaving me hesitating at the doorstep. Usually, I am not hesitant over such a simple thing, but Pitashree’s words about other Kingdoms being different from Panchal make me think before doing, even if just a little. _What do these men expect of me? What do I expect of them?_

When the four of them come back, I notice that Arjun does not meet my eyes. Bheem, however, grins at me. Arjun then follows suit. “Mata, look what we’ve brought for you!” they say, winking at me. I play along, not at all expecting what happens next. “Share whatever you’ve brought among yourselves,” I can hear a lady’s voice say calmly. _What? I am no object to be shared!_ She turns then, and there is an expression of horror on her face, an expression that seems far from genuine to me in the throes of my anger. “Yudhisthir!” she calls. “Gods, how could I make such a mistake?” I say nothing, not trusting my temper. The inevitable explanation follows. Yudhisthir turns to Arjun. “Since you won her,” he says, his eyes uncomfortably on me, “she is your wife,” Arjun stares at the hard-packed floor. Bheem nods at him. “I cannot marry before you, Jyeshth Bhraata…” he says, stuttering and hesitant but still somehow clear. _What kind of a dynamic does he share with his brother that he is not averse to this? Does he realize what this entails?_ He meets his brother’s eyes, studiously avoiding mine. “You are the person who can resolve this in a way that honor is preserved.” _Honor? You are talking about a person!_ Yudhisthir takes a deep breath. All of us are looking at him, anticipating. “There is only one solution. Draupadi shall be our common wife.”

My mind is reeling. _How is that possible? It is unlawful!_ I run through my mind over and over for other possible solutions, but I cannot find a way out of this bind. It is concrete that I am tied to Arjun, for he alone won my Swayamvar. I am tied to him, whether I like it or not. _What happens if I refuse? What would that entail on Father, on Panchal?_

The four brothers react each in different ways. Bheem approaches me cautiously, the twins stay together, clearly confused. And Arjun? Arjun bows his head wordlessly, walking into the huts interior. The Lady Kunti stares after him, but he does not turn, does not say a word. Bheem abandons his pursuit of me, choosing instead to follow his brother.

There is nary a word exchanged as the five brothers leave. I notice that Yudhisthir is walking in the front, the twins in the middle and Arjun and Bheem together at the rear.

That leaves me and the Lady Kunti. After a few tense moments, she approaches me. “Draupadi…” I look at her. “What happened here had to happen.” _Did it?_ “I know that you might not understand but, for our family’s sake, it had to happen. We cannot afford to displace what is already there if we are to survive.” “So you decided that my own life should be the price.” “It does not have to be,” her voice is still calm. “You can still take control of your life. You can do what you wish, even in these circumstances. I can see to it that my sons obey. Think about it, Draupadi. Think about the implications this has politically.” Almost against my own will, I do. This way, I have more control over my own life than I’d thought possible. _Perhaps, she has a point. What if the situation is as precarious as she says it is, in Kururashtra?_ I give her a non-committal nod. She stands. “Well,” she says, tying her Uttariya around her waist, “you’d best get accustomed to what you are to do.” We work together with a silent accord, the older woman helping me when I falter. The men return after sundown, still wet after their rituals. The tension that had dissipated slightly returns. The Lady Kunti divides up the food with my help. Once dinner is over with, the brothers lay down beds of Kusha grass. Bheem and Arjun each carry an extra bed. “Princess,” says Arjun, still looking elsewhere, “I hope you will be as comfortable as possible.” “Does it matter?” I mutter under my breath. “Yes, Princess,” he says, quiet, heavy. “It does.” _Comfortable? He actually has the nerve to say that? After he does this?_ He’s quick to avert his eyes again after this. I do not what to make of this man.

“Mata,” he says, turning to his mother, “Here’s yours. Bhraata Bheem, I’ll take the first watch.” “Arjun, let me accompany you.” Bheem replies. Arjun shakes his head. “I can take care of it, Bhraata Bheem. I will be fine. Good night.” He walks out, standing outside, alert. “Leave him alone, Bheem. Go to bed.” Obediently, the other man lies down, his brothers already abed.

_What right does he have to act like he has been hurt? To avoid me like that? He bowed his head for the garland just fine, does he not know what that means?_ I shake my head. It is of no use, thinking like that. Instead, I think of what will happen next. _Will father agree to this? What will this mean for me in the future?_ Question upon question arises in my mind, with no answer in sight.

I do get some answers the next day. One of Pitashree’s Purohits arrives to escort all of us to Kampilya. Yudhisthir is ready to leave with alacrity, and where he goes, the others automatically follow. He keeps his identity secret for the nonce, though when the Purohit mentions Arjun’s name, he glances back at his younger brother, something indistinct in his eyes. We go home. Father waits in his kaksh, clearly anxious. I can hardly put him at ease, anxious as I am. He welcomes all of us together, with all due deference and respect. He makes an offhanded comment about me wedding Arjun and his delight in it. I look at the man in question, expecting a reaction. Of course, he has to frustrate my expectations. He is still silent, staring at the floor. _Well, I am not you. I will speak._ Before I can open the topic of conversation, Yudhisthir leads Pitashree to an enclosed chamber, after welcoming the just-arrived Vyasa.

Lady Kunti leads me the ladies’ chambers. “What did you think of it?” she asks. “I am not sure what to think of it. But I recognize that I do not have much of a choice. Politically, it makes sense, but it is my personal life, too.” “One sacrifice can be made for the good of many.” “What is the ‘good of many’ here?” “You will understand, child.” _What use is understanding?_ “What will that do?” She stays quiet.

When Pitashree comes out with Yudhisthir, his brothers, and the Vyasa, for one wild moment, I think that I am free of all this. Realistically, of course, that is not possible. Pitashree glances at me while he details his consent. I nod slightly at him. _I take control of my fate in whatever way I can._

And so, I find myself at the vivaah mandap, day after day. Fortunately, due to the situation at hand, the complications it presents, the wedding, for now, is just that. Just the pronunciation of the vows.

Each of the five brothers react differently, I notice that. Yudhisthir has an aura of calm authority, taking my hand in his like it is his destiny, his birthright. Bheem, too, is confident, darting glances at me with a charming smile. Nakul is gentle and treats me more like a sister than a wife for now. Sahadev is an intellectual man, slightly dreamy, abstracted, but considerate.

Arjun…Arjun is the husband I watch, and yet not. He is a man of contradictions, this man who has ostensibly won me. The smooth and easy grace in his movements is heavily contrasted by his tongue-tied shyness around me. Yet, I often catches him darting glances at me, his lashes invariably veiling his eyes when I meet them. I let it slide. A few glances hardly make any difference, in this uncomfortable liminal space all six of us find ourselves in, ostensibly belonging to each other, yet unsure of each other’s place.

Besides, I have to admit to myself, I glance at him, too. The man is a veritable enigma, and I feel the need to puzzle him out, for, after all, we are to be together for life, even if in a relationship like this. I need to know something that is intangible.

My mother-in-law is always at my side, her presence oddly comforting and routine. We still do not need to make a decision and forge ahead in this strange relationship until she says so. She does not seem inclined to say anything, perhaps she herself is unsure of what to say. I stay at her side, help her with what I can, and watch her sons.

We makes inroads into moving near Kururashtra proper, and my husbands are all coiled and tense. _Where is the joy of homecoming?_ I catch myself thinking, before remembering that to them, it is home, but also a battleground of sorts. I decide that the best I can do is to adapt as I go.

We move along, none of us so much as addressing the cause of the tension all of us are used to by now, until. A wandering sage, claiming to be sent by Vyasa himself, throws upheaval into our midst. He brings the subject of our marriage. After discussion with Yudhisthir, they decide that the way to resolve this issue is to give me autonomy to choose the husband I want to be with, at the time of my choice, with pain of banishment to the man who disturbs my privacy with my chosen husband.

Looking at the eldest Pandava lay out the mandate and the younger four nodding in silence, my choice is decided. It is, after all, an illusory choice I face. _What is to say that if I choose one of the younger brothers, they will not defer to the elder?_

I take a deep breath and straighten my shoulders. “I choose you, Yudhisthir.” He looks back at me, the lack of surprise in his gaze expected. I walk to his side, heart in my throat. _What will happen now?_

He takes her hand in his gently. “Take the time you need, Panchali, before you become my Queen.” _Will I become a Queen, in truth?_

The situation in Kururashtra is tenuous, with two Princes vying for the same position, of the Crown Prince. Fortunately, it is solved before it could dissolve into a bloodbath, as it is apparently common with men, turning anything into a bloodbath. _With these men, I suppose, it would be more common than most._

The elders are on the surface, ecstatic that the Pandavas have returned, but there is an undercurrent here that I cannot understand. Yudhisthir clarifies it for me. ‘Now that we are back, the succession is too secure. It’s not an ideal situation to be in, is it? Pitrulya and Pitamah are working with me for a solution to this.’ ‘What is the solution?’ ‘The division of the Kingdom, Panchali.’ ‘Is that a viable solution?’ ‘It has to be.’

I do not know what to make of it. It is clear enough, however, when the decision to divide Kururashtra into two is announced. Bheem makes it clear enough. “Khandavprasth is a ruin! How can we just go there and settle? You cannot be serious!” I find out that Khandav is truly a crumbled ruin, or so it seems to be. “Bhraata Bheem.” It is Arjun who cuts in, calm yet firm. “We can do what Jyeshth wishes. If it is to resettle Khandava, the both of us and the twins are enough to tackle the task Have we failed at anything before?” In this moment, the confident young man was back, the man I remembered seeing on the day of my Swayamvara, sure of himself, yet carrying the talent for the same with ease, not a blustering buffoon by any means.

Confused by the enigma Arjun still is, I find a resolution of sorts the next day. With the court of Khandavprastha already dividing from that of Hastina proper, with the soldiers to be trained, each of the brothers is busy. Wandering the halls of Hastina, looking for a diversion, I come upon Arjun, drilling the soldiers. It is clear to see that he is liked and respected, his easy banter and smiles with those he commands, the attentive way they hang on to each of his words, for all that he seems a little uncomfortable with overt respect.

_Why would such a man be so diffident and obedient inside the doors of his home?_ I wonder for a moment, before it clicks in. _Ah. He’s diffident around family. He does not have the authority to speak for himself, there. Outside of those confines, he is a warrior of renown, respected everywhere his name is taken, that he is more confident. There, he is only a younger son._

He is still hesitant to approach me, much to my own amusement. I take notice of the small things he actually does, providing for each of my whims with Bheem in silence, allowing his elder brother to take all the credit. I notice Bheem looking rather exasperated, as I struggle to hide a laugh.

Yudhisthir is as kind as he has always been, and when he comes to know of my boredom, he suggests that I should explore the library in Hastina. As is typical these days, he is called aside by a partisan of his. Nevertheless, he directs me to the library before he leaves for his own business. In the library, I ask the servant I find to direct me to the books on Arthashastra, wanting the familiar comfort of numbers around me.

I stumble upon Pitrulya Vidur, who looks at me, surrounded with the treatises on economics with interest. “Rajkumari. I see you are interested in the Arthashastras?” I nod. “Yes, I am.” He smiles at me. “Shall I?” he asks, indicating the table I am sitting at. “Of course.” A moment later, I ask, “Pitrulya? May I ask a few questions?” “I would be glad to answer them.” He replies. I smile at him, my eyes falling on his copy of the manuscript, scribbled on the margins about the intricacies of governing a Kingdom and questions about how Arthashastra can be used to establish one. “What is this?” “Ah, this is a treatise I and your husband trade our ideas on.” “I see. May I look?” “Feel free.” I take the manuscript. Scribbled are various questions and tentative solutions. I smile. Wrestling with conundrums like these is something I love. The questions are rather intelligent, I wrap my head around a particularly hard one, puzzling it out. “Have you found the solution to this, Pitrulya?” He shakes his head. “Not yet.” “I think we should compound…” I tense at the patter of footsteps and turn, expecting Yudhisthir.

Instead, it is Arjun. “Pitrulya,” he says excitedly after nodding at me, “We need to compound the investment!” Both of us nod. Pitrulya stays silent, but I reply. “I thought the same.” “You did? Did you pursue it deeply? Do you think it would work? When we are building a Kingdom…” “I know. Yes, I think compounding the investment in infrastructure is a viable way.” “You’re right. But where do we get the finances from?” Both of us go deep into a discussion, finally dissolving the awkwardness between us.

He smiles at the end. “I think you would be a formidable Maharani, Panchali.” I smile back at him. “Why, thank you, Arjun.”

It is infinitely easier to talk to Arjun after that day. He is always ready to indulge my questions, talking frankly. Once, I mention a passing interest in learning self defence.

Arjun’s eyes brighten, an infectious grin on his face. “I was on my way to the archery grounds. I could teach you basic stances if you wish.” “Well,” I cock my head at him. “I’ve hardly ever seen you this interested.” He ducks his head, still grinning. “Ah, archery is an abiding passion.” “I would definitely be interested!”

So we find ourselves at the archery grounds. As Arjun demonstrates the basic stances, they seem very simple, yet when I try, I fumble. “How do you do it so smoothly?” I ask, “That’s not fair!” He laughs. “The practice of a lifetime, Panchali. Here, I’ll show you how.” He moves closer to me, his hand on the handle of the bow, just above mine. He says “Angle your body just so. Like this.” He moves closer, his body angled to mine, and freezes, looking into my eyes, head cocked to mine.

“…Rajkumar Arjun?” We jump apart. “Yes?” His voice is husky. “They are waiting for you in the Sabha, Rajkumar Bheem said.” “The sabha?” His face is crinkled in a confused frown. He lets me go. For a moment, I miss the warmth of his hands on mine. “Panchali, would you deign?” I look at him. “Would he not mind?” “No, of course not, you are to be the Queen.” There is a note in his voice that I don’t understand, but I nod. “Lead the way.”

The Sabha is a rabble when we get there, but just as we enter, one could hear a pin drop. “Your King is putting forward a point,” Arjun addresses them quietly. “Best listen and implement it.” They nod at him. He smiles at me. We settle into our places, at either side of the King. Soon after, Arjun and Bheem are talking about the defence of the Kingdom, I am absorbed in the ways of governance. _I can do this._ I look at Yudhisthir, at Bheem, at Arjun. _I can be a partner in ruling in truth. I can control my life._

**Author's Note:**

> Thoughts? Comments?


End file.
